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Four Stages of Life
Acrylic on 18 in. X 24 in. X 2 in. wrapped canvas
Navajo Woman
Acrylic on 20 in. X 24 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Forest Fire
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Inspired by the devastating forest fires in Northern California in 2017…
In this painting, I have given the trees a human form, for they are no less alive than we are. Their cries rise with the flames, their bodies twisted in anguish, their arms reaching out in a final plea to the indifferent sky.
The fire here is not just a natural disaster—it is a mirror of our own unrelenting hunger. I painted the blaze as a devouring force, but also as a truth we cannot escape: when we set fire to the earth, we set fire to ourselves.
The figures burn, but they also stand as witnesses—silent, grieving, and yet strangely dignified in their surrender. They are mothers, lovers, guardians, each consumed yet refusing to be erased. In their pain, they echo our own, for we are not apart from them; we are of them.
This work is my lament and my warning. A lament for what is lost each time flames consume a forest, and a warning that every blaze lit by neglect and greed will one day return to our own doorsteps.
The forest does not die alone. It takes with it our breath, our memory, and our future.
Mother Earth
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Long Walk Home
Acrylic on 36 in. X 24 in. wrapped canvas
Eternal Return
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
The Color of law
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
I can't breathe
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Three Young Monks
Acrylic on 20 in. X 24 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
In the times of Corona
Acrylic on 18 in. X 24 in. X canvas paper
In the Times of Corona
Acrylic on 24 in. X 18 in. canvas paper
The death of an addict
Acrylic on 24 in. X 18 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Four Stages of Life
Acrylic on 18 in. X 24 in. X 2 in. wrapped canvas
Navajo Woman
Acrylic on 20 in. X 24 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Forest Fire
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Inspired by the devastating forest fires in Northern California in 2017…
In this painting, I have given the trees a human form, for they are no less alive than we are. Their cries rise with the flames, their bodies twisted in anguish, their arms reaching out in a final plea to the indifferent sky.
The fire here is not just a natural disaster—it is a mirror of our own unrelenting hunger. I painted the blaze as a devouring force, but also as a truth we cannot escape: when we set fire to the earth, we set fire to ourselves.
The figures burn, but they also stand as witnesses—silent, grieving, and yet strangely dignified in their surrender. They are mothers, lovers, guardians, each consumed yet refusing to be erased. In their pain, they echo our own, for we are not apart from them; we are of them.
This work is my lament and my warning. A lament for what is lost each time flames consume a forest, and a warning that every blaze lit by neglect and greed will one day return to our own doorsteps.
The forest does not die alone. It takes with it our breath, our memory, and our future.
Mother Earth
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Long Walk Home
Acrylic on 36 in. X 24 in. wrapped canvas
Eternal Return
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
The Color of law
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
I can't breathe
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Three Young Monks
Acrylic on 20 in. X 24 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
In the times of Corona
Acrylic on 18 in. X 24 in. X canvas paper
In the Times of Corona
Acrylic on 24 in. X 18 in. canvas paper
The death of an addict
Acrylic on 24 in. X 18 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Four Stages of Life
Acrylic on 18 in. X 24 in. X 2 in. wrapped canvas
Navajo Woman
Acrylic on 20 in. X 24 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Forest Fire
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Inspired by the devastating forest fires in Northern California in 2017…
In this painting, I have given the trees a human form, for they are no less alive than we are. Their cries rise with the flames, their bodies twisted in anguish, their arms reaching out in a final plea to the indifferent sky.
The fire here is not just a natural disaster—it is a mirror of our own unrelenting hunger. I painted the blaze as a devouring force, but also as a truth we cannot escape: when we set fire to the earth, we set fire to ourselves.
The figures burn, but they also stand as witnesses—silent, grieving, and yet strangely dignified in their surrender. They are mothers, lovers, guardians, each consumed yet refusing to be erased. In their pain, they echo our own, for we are not apart from them; we are of them.
This work is my lament and my warning. A lament for what is lost each time flames consume a forest, and a warning that every blaze lit by neglect and greed will one day return to our own doorsteps.
The forest does not die alone. It takes with it our breath, our memory, and our future.
Mother Earth
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Long Walk Home
Acrylic on 36 in. X 24 in. wrapped canvas
Eternal Return
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
The Color of law
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
I can't breathe
Acrylic on 24 in. X 20 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
Three Young Monks
Acrylic on 20 in. X 24 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
In the times of Corona
Acrylic on 18 in. X 24 in. X canvas paper
In the Times of Corona
Acrylic on 24 in. X 18 in. canvas paper
The death of an addict
Acrylic on 24 in. X 18 in. X 1.5 in. wrapped canvas
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